


holding on

by khayr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amputation, F/M, Trespasser Spoilers, Vague Gore, not really much, why did i write this my heart hurts so much right now lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4774388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khayr/pseuds/khayr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the medic approaches, there is a saw in his hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	holding on

**Author's Note:**

> So clearly there are spoilers for the new Trespasser DLC in here, so please tread with caution if you don't want to be spoiled!
> 
> I've been pulling my hair out over this DLC (it's AMAZING) and naturally felt the itch to drabble, hhhh. Please enjoy.

She’s going to die.  
  
By the time Cassandra and Dorian have hauled her through the final eluvian Aela can’t even stand; her entire forearm burns like the coldest ice she’s ever felt, colder than the night they’d fled Haven and she’d nearly been lost forever in the Frostbacks. She can’t even see straight, vision blurring with each new pulse of pain. Solas was right- the anchor was going to kill her.   
  
“Get the medic!” She feels Cassandra’s voice resonate through her more than she actually hears the words. “Also Iron Bull and Cullen!”   
  
Cullen. Her heart hurts with his name just knowing what this will do to him.   
  
Varric yanks the closest table away from the wall, clearing the assorted plates with a sweep of his arm. Aela is vaguely aware of them dropping her onto the surface, prying her arm out away from where it’s been cradled to her chest. The medic bursts into the room only moments later, Bull and Cullen behind him and she swears she can feel terror and bile rising in the back of her throat. She doesn’t want to die- not here, not like this.   
  
Cullen crosses the room in less than four steps, his fingers sliding on either side of her cheek and thumbing over the white ink of her vallaslin like he’s done a thousand times before. He’s whispering something to her that she can’t make out. A prayer? Perhaps. Another wave of pain shoots through her and her eyes roll back as a strangled scream escapes her throat.   
  
When the medic approaches, there is a saw in his hand.   
  
Her panic rises again. Dorian is gripping her left arm with all of his strength, pinning it in place and Iron Bull has finally come around to firmly wrestle her legs back to the table. Cassandra’s free hand grips her opposite shoulder and for a half moment Aela raises her wild eyes to meet her gaze.   
  
“It is the only way, Lavellan,” Cassandra’s voice wavers despite the steel in her eyes. Aela doesn’t believe her, can’t believe that this is happening and it takes Cullen’s voice to pull her from her downward spiral, his hands still gently cradling either side of her head.   
  
“Aela,” he whispers, as close as he can safely be, “I’ve got you.” She locks her eyes with his, forcing what little focus she has left on him and not at the medic readying the saw beside her. He hands Cullen a clean piece of cloth and sets to tying another around her arm where Dorian still holds fast. The piece Cullen has he gently works between her teeth before his hands return to hold the back of her head.   
  
A palpable silence filled the room for only a half moment and then the medic pulled the first stroke of the saw. Aela let out a scream muted by the gag in her mouth, a string of curses and desperate pleading in elvhen following.   
  
Perhaps dying would have been better.   
  
The second stroke comes soon after and it’s too much, far too much and Aela finds herself falling down, down into the deepest black where there is no sound or feeling and only the dark to surround her.   


 

  
  
When she wakes, it is blessedly quiet. For a moment she just lays there, breathing slowly while she takes in her surroundings. Clean, white linens and the smell of antiseptic hit her nose, although there is a gentle undertone of sandalwood and leather and Aela knows Cullen is not far off. She shifts gingerly, taking extra care to ignore the sensation of nothing where her left arm used to be. The absence of the cool pulse the anchor used to bring is strange, only serving to unnerve her further.   
  
Maybe this can all be just a dream. She’s pretty sure she’d prefer it that way.   
  
From the doorway there’s the sound of clinking dishes just before Cullen enters the room, pausing in the doorway to meet her gaze. His shoulders visibly relax and carefully he picks his way around the assortment of other chairs scattered around until he comes to rest at her bedside. Now that he's this close, it looks as if he hasn't slept yet.  
  
“You’re awake.” It’s an obvious statement, but it breaks the silence and draws a thin smile from Aela that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.   
  
“Yeah.” She shuffles around, drawing herself into a sitting position and pausing to nervously wind a lock of her hair around her fingers. “How long was I out?”   
  
“Just overnight,” he offers, pouring her a mug of tea that smells suspiciously like royal elfroot and embruim… her favorites. When he slides the mug into her hand she clutches it close to her, breathing in the steam rising from the cup and allowing the herbs to work their magic before she even takes a sip. “Everyone is worried about you, you know.”   
  
Aela takes a guilty look at the chairs strewn about again- had most of them waited around for a while? She wants to fidget with her hair again but her only hand is already occupied. A soft sound of frustration rumbles in her throat. This will not be easy.   
  
Has anything ever been easy for her, though?   
  
“We should disband the Inquisition,” she says suddenly, taking a long sip of tea to allow Cullen to digest her words, “Keep those closest to us for when the time comes to go after Solas.” He nods silently, pouring a cup of her tea for himself as she continues.   
  
“Was this your intention from the start?”   
  
“I’d thought about it. There was so much happening right under our noses and we never saw it. This worked well to hunt down Corypheus, but if we want to go toe to toe with Solas when the time comes we’re going to need a fresh start. He knows too much of us right now.”   
  
Her eyes met his, head tilting as she gauged his expression and offered a weak smile. “Thoughts, Commander?”   
  
“As long as I am at your side, it does not matter if the Inquisition is around or not,” his fingers ran through his hair, ruffling the ends that had started to curl up overnight. “We can certainly rebuild when the time comes for it.”   
  
“Mm,” she finished the rest of her tea quickly, setting down the mug in her lap and threading her fingers through Cullen’s. She squeezed his hand gently. The elfroot was coursing in her system now, easing the pain and soothing her frazzled nerves.   
  
Everything might be all right.   
  
“Should go rescue Josie, I think,” she murmured, a soft chuckle following, “If we know what needs to be done, let’s not waste any more time here.” Cullen pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles, nodding in response.   
  
“I love you.” He said quietly after a short stretch of silence, “I am glad you survived all of this.”   
  
For a moment she said nothing, her left shoulder rolling back with unfamiliar lack of weight. She’d figure it out. Somehow. Her free hand ached for the grip of her bow, and her heart sank. Another thing she would need to sort out when they were home. Another obstacle to cross. Yet she had already crossed so many... this was just one more test for her to bear.  
  
“Me too,” she replied, finding she actually meant the words, “Me too.”


End file.
